This Could All Go So Wrong
by E. M. Zeray
Summary: Zach Anderson left his old life behind, changed his name, and didn't look back. Until a ghost of his past emerged in New York 11 years later. White Collar/Glee crossover, based on all of the crack going with Matt Bomer playing Blaine's brother on Glee.


**A/N: Inspired by the fanfiction of spookyclaire and other White Collar/Glee crossover stuff. I'm not listing it as a crossover because I think of it more as a crack thing between the fact that Matt Bomer will be on Glee as Blaine's brother so… Yeah.**

**Enjoy!**

He thought he was dreaming. Daydreaming, to be more accurate. He had imagined it. It couldn't have been real. After all, it had been—what? 11 years? He hadn't seen the kid since he was going into eighth grade. By now he had to have been a sophomore in college—but New York? When had Blaine ever expressed any interest in going to college in New York? Then again, he hadn't exactly been around…

"What are you looking at?" Peter asked gruffly.

Neal shook his head, clearing his thoughts and brushing off Peter's question at the same time. "Nothing. Just… Distracted."

"Are we interviewing the professor or not?"

There was an art history professor at NYU that had been teaching a class on an artifact he'd borrowed, with permission, from a local museum, only to find out that the artifact had not been the real one. Agent Peter Burke was called in on the case.

"Yeah," Neal muttered. "We are. But you know that he did it." They began walking again and Neal stuck his hands in his trouser pockets. "That's a great cover up. Borrow the artifact, make a forgery, keep the real one, and then announce that the one he's using is fake—a lesser agent wouldn't look at him twice."

"Good thing I'm not a lesser agent."

It was weird. For the rest of the day, all he could think about was Blaine.

It had been too long. The last he'd heard, Blaine was going to a public school in Westerville. Then, when he'd asked Mozzie to check up on him, he was at Dalton. He hadn't heard anything after that.

That evening, he settled in for research.

Blaine Anderson, 20 years old, pre-law student at NYU—attended Westerville County public schools for elementary, middle, and a half year of high school before going to Dalton Academy until he was a junior, when he jumped ship and went to McKinley High in Lima.

Neal frowned. Why the sudden change? Had they moved? Dalton and McKinley were hardly close to each other.

He knew someone he could ask.

"Hey, Moz—I have a job for you."

-0-

"Blaine," Kurt laughed as his boyfriend kissed down the side of his neck. "Honestly, Blaine—I have a project to finish!"

"It can wait." He captured Kurt's mouth with his own before sliding into his boyfriend's lap. "You could sew a costume in your sleep and I cannot remember the last time we had enough time to have lazy, Saturday afternoon sex."

"Shouldn't it be Sunday afternoon?"

"Too cliché."

Kurt laughed good-naturedly. "You have a paper due on Tuesday."

"I'll start it tomorrow. You're wearing too many clothes." He began unbuttoning Kurt's vest, kissing his jaw as he did so. "There were FBI agents at the school yesterday."

Kurt's hands went to Blaine's thighs. "Oh?"

"Lots of rumors floating around campus about what's going on but Danica—that girl from the coffee shop—said they came into her art history class and stuck around until it was over to talk to the professor." He shoved Kurt's vest off his shoulders and tossed it away, followed quickly by the dress shirt underneath.

"Wonder what that's all about. Nothing exciting ever happens at NYADA. Unless it's Rachel throwing another temper tantrum."

"I thought she'd gotten over those."

"Hmm…" Kurt's head fell back as Blaine's mouth went to his collarbone and his hands traveled up Kurt's undershirt to his chest. "She's better. It's tough though."

"At least she's living with Andrew—we'd never get to have sex if she was still here with us."

"We'd find a way." Kurt's hands came up, twisting into Blaine's hair, before pulling Blaine's head away from his throat and forcing their lips together. It was a rough, desperate kiss and moments later, both of them were shirtless and stumbling away from the desk and towards the bed.

Blaine had just yanked his boyfriend on top of him when there was a knock at the front door.

He groaned in frustration. "Shit."

Kurt kissed his cheek. "You're more dressed than I am." He rolled off of Blaine, leaning against the pillows. "Go on, Anderson. The sooner you answer the door, the sooner you get back."

Grumbling, Blaine stood and righted his jeans before picking up his shirt and forcing it over his head right as he reached the door. When it swung open, it was a short, slightly round man with brown glasses and a mostly-bald head.

The man blinked, ran his eyes up and down Blaine and then said, "Sorry—wrong apartment," before scurrying off.

Blaine stood there for a moment, confused, before he sighed and closed the door. He shed his shirt on the way to the bedroom.

"Next time there's an interruption, they can wait."

-0-

"It's him," Mozzie confirmed over the phone two minutes later. "He looks like you. And the pictures you sent me. The address is right. And I think he lives with someone."

Neal hadn't realized he was holding his breath until he sighed with relief. "Now I just need to convince Peter to let me go see him." His curiosity was getting the better of him. Did Blaine look healthy? Was he happy? Who was he living with? A friend? A _special _friend?

Neal had suspected Blaine's sexuality when he was in 6th grade. He'd never stuck around to find out if he was right.

"It's barely outside your radius," Mozzie said, shoving him away from his thoughts. "Shouldn't take much. Play the family card and maybe Elizabeth'll help you convince him."

Neal hung up the phone shortly after, staring at the files in front of him. Peter had him sorting through supposed evidence while he was out on a coffee run—when the agent returned, he was going to ask to go see his little brother.

In the end, it didn't take much. Except that Peter wanted to go with him.

He would be lying if he had said he wasn't nervous. He was terrified. Over a decade since he'd seen his brother and just appearing on the younger man's doorstep out of the blue? Would Blaine slam the door in his face?

Peter stared at him, hands in his pockets, face in that expression that was a mix of worry and expectancy, and Neal muttered, "You're not helping."

"Do you want me to knock?"

Neal shook his head. "I can do it." And he did.

Silence.

Waiting.

Footsteps.

The sound of a lock.

And then the door swung open.

A boy with light brown hair styled to reach towards the ceiling and bright, seemingly-blue eyes stood in the doorway. He was dressed in blue jeans and a sweatshirt reading "New York University" in big white letters. He was barefoot. He was pale, but not sickly so, and looked expectantly at the two men before him.

"Can I help you?"

Neal's mouth was open. Peter nudged him. "Blaine," he managed. "I—I'm looking for Blaine. Anderson. Blaine Anderson."

The boy arched an eyebrow. "He's in the shower. Um. Who are you?"

He swallowed tightly. "Just an old friend. Neal."

"Do you want to come in and wait?"

"Oh. Uh. No, thanks. I just…" He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. He'd been almost too prepared for Blaine to not be home. "Could you give him this as soon as you can?"

The boy took the paper that had a note and Neal's phone number written on it. "Sure."

And so he just had to wait.

Central Park was where the note asked Blaine to meet him. By the bench just opposite the coffee stand with the navy blue awning, whenever he could. Neal would wait for the rest of the day if he had to. And he'd go back for as many days as it took for Blaine to meet him there.

As it turned out, he only had to wait a half hour.

Blaine was all grown up. He was a handsome young man. Filled out, strong, sturdy, a day's worth of stubble on his face, unruly hair happily bouncing on top of his head. He was a man. And somewhere over the last few years, Neal had missed that happening.

He could see it in Blaine's eyes when he recognized him. They went from confused and hopeful to shocked and scared in an instant.

Neal stood from his spot on the bench, taking an uneasy step towards Blaine.

"Zach."

He almost wanted to cry. Blaine's voice. Blaine's voice saying that name…

Neal was caught between the urge to hug his brother and the desire to run away. He did neither. Instead, he held out the medium drip. "Coffee?"

Blaine didn't move. "What are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you that."

"Zach…"

"Neal," he corrected the boy. "Neal Caffrey."

Blaine moved his head in minute shakes, like he couldn't believe what was happening. "You… You're Zach. You're my brother."

Neal nodded shortly. "How you been, B?"

"How long have you been in New York?"

"…a while." He looked pointedly at the coffee cup in his outstretched hand. "You want it or not?"

They sat on the bench together, not looking at each other, and Neal began to talk.

"I don't even know how to begin. I… I want to apologize, Blaine. For everything. For leaving you. Especially with them. With you entering high school, with Dad being such a…" He sighed, clenching his jaw. "I almost went back for you. Multiple times. But I'd changed my name by then. I'd gotten into a new business. People were looking for me everywhere I went. I didn't want to risk your safety. And…" He took a deep breath. "I was a coward."

He chanced a sideways glance at Blaine, searching for a hint of anything other than sadness on the young man's face. Nothing.

"I've done some things, Blaine. I was in prison for a while." Blaine stiffened at this. "But now I work with the FBI. I'm better."

"What'd you do?"

Neal licked his lips. "A lot of different things."

"How'd you find me?"

"I...got curious. Looked you up. I have connections. And so here I am. So…" He leaned back, stretching his arm across the back of the bench. "What have you been up to?"

Blaine laughed humorlessly. "Where do I start?"

"How about with the boy in your apartment."

A small smile bloomed on Blaine's face. "His name is Kurt."

"Your boyfriend."

He nodded. "Yeah. My boyfriend."

"Does Dad know? That you're gay?"

Neal realized two seconds after asking that he had just steered an innocent conversation down a very, very dark road. Blaine's eyes lost their light, the smile fell away, and he followed Neal's example, leaning back. "I came out to them a few months into freshman year. It was…terrifying. Dad didn't talk to me for a week—and then he suggested we rebuild a car together. When I asked the only other gay kid in the school to the Sadie Hawkins dance, neither of them said anything to me except for 'Good morning' or 'How was your day?' or 'Did you finish your homework?' until after the dance. I…" He swallowed. "My date and I got beat up pretty badly. I was in the hospital for a while. And then things with Mom kind of worked out okay. She was scared I was going to get killed so they sent me to Dalton."

"And Dad?"

Blaine squirmed. "He was distant. Uncaring. We talked about fencing or grades mostly. He would pretend I hadn't said anything if I brought up the Warblers. That was the—"

"The glee club." Neal nodded. "I remember."

"Right. I was the lead singer for a while. And then things kind of got flopped around and everything changed and… I wound up at McKinley. With Kurt."

"You like singing?"

Blaine nodded. "A lot."

"Why didn't you major in music? Go someplace like Julliard?"

"It was a hard decision," Blaine muttered towards his coffee. "I mean… I love performing. But that's really Kurt's thing. So with NYU and his school, NYADA , being so close together… It worked out. I actually like law well enough. And Dad wouldn't help pay the tuition if I went to Julliard anyway, so." He cleared his throat. "We're happy though. Kurt and I. We're surviving, which is hard enough in New York without college expenses, and we exploring and we're living."

"I'm happy for you."

"I'm gonna marry him."

Neal smiled softly. "Yeah?"

Another involuntary grin grew over Blaine's face. "Yeah. I… He's the one, Zach. I just know it."

When that name came from Blaine's mouth again, Neal almost flinched. But he didn't say anything except, "How long you two been together?"

"Since I was 16. He's actually a year older than me. When we were separated—he left for NYADA while I was still in Ohio—it was miserable. We tried, but we didn't try hard enough and we fought almost every time we talked. We even thought we would take a break for a while, so neither of us had any pressure, but then he came home to visit for Spring Break and… We realized that was the stupidest thing we'd ever done."

"Sounds like you two have been through a lot."

"More than you know. More than I have time to explain."

Neal shifted. "You didn't tell him about me."

"I thought… Fuck." He leaned over, resting his elbow on his knee and putting his face in his hand. "Mom and Dad told me that you died. A car accident or something."

"Holy crap."

Blaine continued, sitting up straight but not showing any sign of having heard him. "And I didn't really believe them because I was just…shocked. So I searched for Zach Anderson online but there was nothing."

"Changed my name when I turned 18," Neal said softly.

"Yeah, I know now. I thought that if you'd been alive you would've sent me something. Tried to get in touch with me."

"I screwed up a lot, Blaine."

"But I was wrong." He stared at the road in front of them, the people leaving work, jogging, walking with their kids, their husbands, their girlfriends—it was a day like any other. But it suddenly felt momentous. "And I should be mad at you. I should be really, really mad. But…" He swallowed tightly. "I'm just not. Because I just got my brother back and I kind of want to hug you right now."

Neal grinned. "B."

"I missed you," he whispered, throwing his arms around his brother. "So much."

"You too, B. You too."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review!**

**Love,**

**E. M. Zeray**

**wishingonalightningbolt DOT tumblr DOT com**


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